Never Mess With A Holmes
by Roxi2Star
Summary: Set in OOTP. 16 year old Mycroft finds his first year brother trying to heal his own hand. When Mycroft finds out why Sherlock would need to heal his own hand in the first place, he gets a bit pissed, and shows Sherlock how to use what he's given to get ahead in the world. (Sherlock also relies on him, and that's nice too) WARNING: Brotherly love, some OOCness on Sherlock's part.


**Oh ho. Hey guys. PotterLock anyone? So I based this on something I saw on tumblr. And then I had this super cute brotherly-ish moment form in my head. And then here I am~ So set in OOTP, Mycroft in in 6th year and Sherlock is in 1st. **

Mycroft slowly walked down the hall, his black robes flowing behind him as he walked. The blue and bronze tie around his neck tied neatly. The shiny prefect badge on his chest glimmering in the low torch light. The castle was finally coming down off it's new year high. They had only been in school for about 2 weeks. So far the only thing interesting is Harry Potter had managed to land himself detention with the New Defence against the dark arts teacher. Mycroft could see why. She was an absolute nightmare. Umbridge was refusing to let them use defensive spells? How on earth could they learn without them? Theory, while useful, can only take yo so far.

Mycroft made a sharp turn into the library. He wanted to check out a book on the dark arts, and maybe try to get ahead of the curve. Shouldn't' be too difficult. As he crept along the aisles searching for a book, he became aware of the faint, high pitched voice.

"Dammit..." it muttered. "_Helio._" followed by silence. "Why isn't it working?!" Mycroft followed the small voice only to find his younger brother Sherlock bent over a book, his wand pointed at his hand. "_Helio._" Nothing happened.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked the young Slytherin coming over to him. As he moved Sherlock suddenly shut his book closed, and hid his hand.

"What do you want _Mycroft._" he said sneering his brother's name.

"What's wrong with your hand?" He asked. "And don't lie. I know you were trying to heal something." Sherlock only looked at him with a stony face. "Sherlock Holmes, show me your hand." Mycroft said firmly. Sherlock finally sighed and pulled out his small pale had to repress a gasp. There carved into Sherlock's hand were the words;

_I shall know my place_

"What happened." Mycroft demanded in a soft voice.

"Umbridge gave me detention when I told her she was a foul teacher, and that she wasn't even teaching us the correct counter jinx theory." Sherlock said not even the faintest tinge of regret in his voice.

"And...?" Mycroft asked, the anger already boiling in his lower stomach.

"She had me do lines. And when you write, it cuts into your hand and writes with your own blood." Sherlock said. Mycroft bit the inside of his cheeks. "I have to go again tomorrow for more."

"Oh no you won't." Mycroft said standing up straight. "Oh no... She'll pay for this. Sherlock, big brother's going to teach you a lesson in how to use what you're given. And you and I happened to have been given a lot." He pulled Sherlock up onto his feet. "Come along." He said. Sherlock followed after, much to Mycroft's surprise. It was rare for Sherlock to rely on him for anything. So Mycroft took it with pride, and took his little brother by his uninjured hand. And to his silent delight, Sherlock held it tightly.

Together they walked through the castle towards Umbridge's office. As they passed the students could all feel the energy the brothers were giving off. Like a large storm in the castle, or a wave about to crash. The air around them seemed to tighten, and a silent drumroll seemed to buzz in their ears. At long last they reached Umbridge's office. Mycroft didn't bother knocking and instead burst through the door into the disgustingly pink room. Several of the plates with kittens on it hissed quietly.

"Mr. Holmes, what is the meaning of-"

"Shut up." Mycroft ordered. Sherlock looked up at him. His face was strong and emotionless. But something about him just radiated with power and control. Much more so than normal. Sherlock held his hand tighter as blood slowly dripped from the back of his other one. Sherlock looked back at Umbridge, trying to keep his face as stony and as powerful as his brothers. He was doing a pretty good job, but fell short compared to his brother. "Explain, why the _hell _my brother has 'I shall know my place' _cut_ into the back of his hand?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock stuck out his bleeding hand showing her the words. She smiled coldly.

"Punishment. For speaking out of turn and for insulting a teacher." She said then added a small giggle.

"Oh, is having children pointlessly read a book, really what they call teaching now?" He asked. "Either way, it does not excuse to _cut _a message into an 11 year old's hand. But what's done is done, and you've used up your one fuck up." Umbridge sneered and opened her mouth to speak. "Speak when you're spoken to." He ordered. "Now, I can trust this _won't _happen again. Or might have to tell our father about this. You might know him he works in the Ministry. Thaddeus Holmes. The head of the department of mysteries?" He said smirking at the flash of dread on her face. "And you wouldn't want him on your bad side. People he doesn't like tned to go missing. Thank you for your time Professor. I'll see you in class." He said leading Sherlock out of the room. But Sherlock stopped and turned back and said;

"You're mother must be so proud. Say hello to Momma Umbridge in hell for me, would you?" And he followed his brother out.

**So Potterlock. Yep. I enjoyed this. Brotherly love with a side of Umbridge bashing. I hope no one was too out of character. It's difficult to write young Sherlock because I'm having this inner battle of smart assery and independence with innocence and that dependency kids tend to have. But I think I did ok!**


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